


In Search Of Caffeine

by superangsty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Clint doesnt even know Phil's name for most of this fic, Finally, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Sign Language, i can die happy now, i have written a coffee shop au, just a tad, my life is complete, phil is maybe slightly a teeny bit addicted to coffee, so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Coffee, I need coffee. Now."</p><p>In which Clint has a coffee shop, which is fortunate because Phil is kind of always desperate for coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search Of Caffeine

“Coffee, I need coffee. Now.”

Clint looked the customer up and down; most people that came into the shop so early were regulars, but he was pretty sure he had never seen the man before. Weird. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. What kind of coffee do you want?”

The man was frantically typing something into his phone, and whatever it was was apparently too important to look up from for even a second, because he simply replied with “Don’t care. Just give me two of whatever has the most caffeine in it.”

As quickly as he could, Clint poured out two cups of coffee, before handing them over to the man, who practically threw a twenty dollar bill onto the counter as he grabbed the coffees and rushed out, still typing on his phone.

Well, that had been…interesting.

 

~***~

 

After the man had left, Clint became so busy with the usual morning rush that he had pretty much forgotten all about him. Generally, every morning the same people would come in on their ways to work, and Clint had been making their coffees for so long that he knew most of their orders off by heart. He liked that, the fact that they didn’t have to tell him what they wanted, that they could walk in and by the time they had walked to the counter he would already be halfway through making their drink.

The morning rush lasted for a couple of hours, and by the time it was over Clint was more than willing to collapse into a chair and actually drink a cup of coffee himself. He figured that there wouldn’t be too many more customers until about 11, which gave him at least a short break. He probably shouldn’t be getting quite so exhausted from making coffee, but then, he probably shouldn’t be attempting to do it all by himself. He reminded him himself, for the thousandth time, that he really needed to put a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window. That probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Lunchtime that day was fairly quiet, and so there were barely any customers in the shop when the man from that morning walked in again.

“Oh, hi. Did you come by to get your change? Because you kinda left waaaaaayy too much money behind this morning.”

“Did I? Sorry about that, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. I was sort of in a rush.”

“Yeah, I got that…” Clint trailed off, because he was finally looking at the guy properly (the morning hadn’t counted, he hadn’t even looked up at Clint), and _holy shit_ , he was attractive. Realising that he was staring, Clint quickly cleared his throat and continued. “So, uh, did you want to get more coffee?”

“Ooh, yes. I’ll just have whatever it was you gave me this morning.”

“So just a normal coffee, then.”

Clint turned around to start making the coffee, and, as he did so, the man kept speaking. “Although, I didn’t actually come in here to get coffee. I wanted to apologise. I was rude to you this morning, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint set the cup of coffee on the counter “I’ve had customers a lot ruder than you.”

The man got out his wallet, ready to pay, but Clint shooed his hand away “Don’t worry, the money you gave me earlier covers it.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mr…?” The man paused, obviously waiting for Clint to give his name.

“Barton. But everyone just calls me Clint. And you are?”

But, because the universe apparently had it out for Clint, the man probably barely even heard his response, because at the same time that Clint was saying that, he was checking his phone, saying “Crap, I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the coffee.” before rushing out. Again.

 

~***~

 

A week went by, and the man didn’t come into the coffee shop again (which Clint was definitely not disappointed about, nope, not at all). It was a pretty productive week, in Clint’s opinion. He invented a couple of new drinks, thinking he would mix things up a bit. Barely anybody bought them, they generally just went for their usual drinks, but those that did said that they tasted good.

He also finally remembered to put up a help wanted sign in the window. The only applicant he got was a redhead, Natasha. She had absolutely no experience, and Clint should really have turned her down. He had never trained anyone before, wasn’t sure how good he’d be at it. But there was something about Natasha that made him hire her. She was clever, and funny, and she got used to using the coffee machine pretty easily. And maybe she scared Clint just a tiny bit, but there was no reason to admit that to her.

She started taking over some of his shifts, which meant that on some days he actually got to have a lie in, and when he came in and took over she would complain about what a stupid idea it was to open up the shop at 6 am every morning. ‘It’s not _every_ morning, Tasha’ ‘Of course, because 7 am on Sundays is soooo much better’.

The customers apparently liked her too, their only complaint being that it was strange to have to actually order their drinks, something that they had all gotten so used to not doing that it seemed odd to actually have to remember the names of their drinks.

 

~***~

 

Natasha looked up when she heard the door open, watched as her first customer of the day came in. His eyes were so fixed on whatever he was doing on his phone that it was a wonder that he didn’t trip over anything in his path. She had never seen the man before, but didn’t think anything of that, she was still getting to know the customers. For all she knew, he might only come in on Monday mornings.

The man put down a twenty dollar bill on the counter, saying “Coffee.”

Natasha waited for him to elaborate, but after a few moments he still hadn’t said anything else, so she asked. “Okay, sir, what kind?”

At the sound of her voice he froze, looking up at her from his phone with the tiniest frown “Uh… you’re not… that guy…”

She didn’t ask which guy, because there was only one other person that worked in the shop, so that was fairly self-explanatory. “His shift isn’t until this afternoon. Anyway, what kind of coffee?”

There was a moment’s pause, and wow, the guy must be seriously exhausted if it took that long to work out what kind of coffee he wanted.

“…Normal kind. Two cups. Thank you.”

Natasha poured out the cups of coffee, handing them to him before turning around again to get his change. But by the time she had turned round again, the man was already gone.

 

~***~

 

“Hey, Clint. A guy came in this morning. I didn’t recognise him. Is he one of your regulars?”

“What did he look like?”

“Good suit, kinda thinning hair. Practically glued to his phone. Exhausted as fuck, I’d say.”

“Not a regular, but I know who you mean. Did he seem like he was in a rush?”

“Yup. And he asked where you were.”

“Huh. Did he mention his name, by any chance?”

“No…”

“Goddammit.”

 

~***~

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Barton.”

For a moment, Clint wondered if he was in trouble for something or the other. People never used his surname, not unless they were some kind of fancy official job sort of person. But, when he looked up and saw who it was, he had to suppress a smile. “Hi. You remembered my name. That’s good. That’s a good thing. Thank you for that. But you should just be calling me Clint.” He mentally kicked himself, because of _course_ he would start to get all awkward just as the good looking guy walked in. That was so typical of him.

The man raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing on Clint’s incredible mastery of the English language. “Clint.” His lips quirked up slightly as he said that, but it was so barely noticeable that Clint wouldn’t count it as a smile, not exactly. “I’ll just have a plain coffee, please.”

“Coming right up.” As Clint made the coffee, he kept talking to the man “So, were you in here this morning?”

“Yes, on Monday mornings I have to be up particularly early and my usual coffee shop doesn’t open before I need to be at work. You weren’t here, though.”

Clint wanted to ask what the hell kind of work needed its employees to come in at six in the morning, but, considering that the guy hadn’t even given him his name, he doubted he’d say where he worked. “Nah, I hired someone to help out around here, so that I can have a bit of time out every now and again.”

He set the coffee down on the counter as the other man replied “You had previously worked here alone?”

“I’ve owned the place a few years, and I’ve always managed on my own. But hey, I’m not getting any younger.” He chuckled, shaking his head when the man held out money to pay. “Nope, I know you left a twenty this morning. You really need to stop doing that.”

“Well maybe it’s so that I have an excuse to come in again in the afternoon.”

At that, the man picked up his coffee and walked out, leaving Clint _definitely_ not blushing. At all.

 

~***~

 

The next morning, at a vaguely normal time (well, 7:30 was still pretty early), the man came into the shop again. Clint started getting his coffee ready for him, assuming that he would just want the same as every other time he had come in.

“So what, was your ‘usual’ coffee shop closed again?”

“Not exactly, I just thought maybe it was time for a change.”

“Huh. Well, unsurprising, really. I _do_ make the world’s best coffee, of course.”

“Of course.” The man took his coffee, handing Clint the money, twenty dollars again, before turning to walk out. “Goodbye, Mr Barton.”

“Bye…”

 

~***~

 

That afternoon, Clint was expecting the man when he walked in again, just as the lunch rush was dying down. The guy apparently had a knack for avoiding crowds, considering how he always arrived either just before or just after the busiest times of the day. Clint smiled at him, turning to make his coffee whilst the man paced near the counter, muttering into his phone.

After a couple of minutes, the coffee was ready and the man had put away his phone, walking over to the counter to talk to Clint. "I'm sorry, that was really rude of me. But y'know, some calls you don't really have a choice whether or not to take."

The man took his coffee, sipping at it slowly as Clint replied. "Don't worry about it. So who was the call to? Girlfriend?"

The moment he asked that, he regretted it. The guy probably thought he was some kind of stalker, going around asking who he was calling. Who even did that? For crying out loud, he didn't even know the guys name! He really really needed to start keeping his mouth shut.

"My boss. Exciting, I know." The man gave a small chuckle before continuing. "And for the record, I don't have a girlfriend. Nor would I want one. Not really my thing."

The man looked at Clint pointedly (or maybe Clint was just imagining that) before heading out of the shop, calling out "see you tomorrow" as he left.

 

~***~

 

"I've just realised that you don't know my name."

At the sound of that voice, already becoming familiar, Clint looked up. "Well good morning to you too." He didn't mention the name thing, trying to sound as if he _hadn't_ been thinking about what his name might be since the day they met.

"It's Phil."

That hadn't been one of the names that Clint had considered, not at all, but looking at the man - at Phil, it was hard to imagine him being named anything else. The name suited him perfectly, although Clint couldn't for the life of him think why it was that he thought that.

"Phil. Okay."

"I'll see you this afternoon, yeah?" As always, Phil set his money down on the counter and left.

Clint didn't manage to say anything other than "yeah".

 

~***~

 

When Phil walked into the coffee shop that afternoon, he was with a group of other people, and by the tone of their conversation Clint would guess that they were his friends, not his colleagues. Or maybe they were both. Probably, considering that they had the same lunch time, just slightly later than that of most other places. One of Phil's friends was wearing an eyepatch, which Clint was very definitely not staring at as they went up to the counter to order.

Phil, since he knew Clint, was the one to actually order their drinks for them. "Hi, Clint."

At first, Clint thought that Phil was doing some kinda weird fidgeting with his hands, since he was moving them so strangely. It took longer than Clint was proud to admit to realise that he was actually signing as he spoke. < _you paying attention?_ >

For a moment, Clint wondered how Phil knew that he used sign language, but quickly brushed it out side. Phil struck him as the kind of guy who generally knew everything about everyone. He quickly signed back _< yes>_ as Phil continued speaking. "We'll take five coffees, to drink here," _ <I hate to assume, but you like me, right?>_

"Okay, five coffees, gotcha. Anything else?" As he spoke, Clint nodded slightly in reply to Phil, silently hoping that he didn't start blushing as he did so. The entire situation was starting to get embarrassing enough as it was, he didn't need to make everyone else suspicious.

"The doughnuts look pretty good today, we'll take five of those too."  < _Well I was just thinking, since we're two people who both like each other, maybe we would also like each other somewhere like a date?_ >

Phil looked back at the others, confirming that they did, in fact, want the doughnuts. The only complaint sounded like it came from the guy in glasses "Okay, make that four, because apparently _some people_ have decided to suddenly worry about their health."

Clint stood there, frozen still for a moment as his brain tried to comprehend what Phil had just asked him. He mentally shook himself, replying to the order with "doughnuts, yes, okay, doughnuts are good. You'll like the doughnuts. Unless you don't. Um."

By the time he finished speaking, his brain had only just caught up, allowing him to sign back to Phil with _< yes, I'd like that.>_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I hope you liked it! I'm considering writing a sequel or something, but idk, I guess we'll see.
> 
> Apologies if there's any random letters or typos and stuff, my computer charger broke and so I had to write most of this on my tablet. With a touchscreen keyboard. Literally like trying to write with fish (I don't know why I compared it to fish, I'm tired don't judge)
> 
> As always, please leave comments to let me know what you think, I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> Also, check out my [tumblr](http://superangsty.tumblr.com)!


End file.
